For two years The Quartet's Uncle Toby has been involved in boxing training. He’s gone once a week to be put through the ringer by a medieval trainer and he recently began showing me, or inflicting upon me, what he’s learned. For the last three weeks he’s been training me in the sweet science just as he has been. Working out with Toby is like exercising with a grizzly bear. He’s my Louis Fyne, but with a voice like Burgess Meredith and the docile patience of Mr. Miyagi. Let me say this to any of you who may think that Toby is out of shape: he is not. He can out sit-up me, out jump rope me, out shadow box me, and I’ve got the aches to prove it. And if we ever get into the ring and actually spar, I’m afraid he may kill me. And, oh, the exquisite pain of his medicine balls. I credit him with my times in the last two 5ks I’ve run, times that have surprised me, due to the core strengthening from his workouts. I know he’s got more moves in his arsenal and, frankly, it scares me, though I also look forward to them because I know that each time I leave the gym with him my back is just a little bit sturdier than before and that I’ll be able to run a little bit further than I did the week before.
I’m thinking about having him train The Quartet next, his own mini-camp of mini-people. C has been interested lately in running 5ks with me but I’m not so interested unless he can keep up. JP could use the core strengthening to help him reach new heights while climbing the Crepe myrtle in our front yard. S is as scrappy a street fighter as there is, but could use some discipline. GK’s footwork is just sloppy, that’s all there is to it. This could be the perfect second career for Toby if he ever found himself in need of one. He could train whole families to fight. Little armies with little, furious fists and abs of steel.
The best part? You want to know what The Quartet will take to the most with their boxing training? Vegas, baby. Las Vegas.